Centuries behind the Times
by Just Slightly Obsessed
Summary: The Battle of Helm's Deep should have been an easy win. Ten thousand orcs against three hundred men. Trained fighters against farmers. Swords and spears against... ah. Nothing ever goes exactly to plan. One-shot. Slightly AU.


**WARNING: Severe orc-bashing.**

**I had to write this. Every time I see the Helm's Deep scene in the movie I can't help but wonder what would happen if... well, you'll see. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings is not mine.**

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The scene was devastating.

Hundreds upon thousands of orcs were marching as one towards the small, crumbling building locked within the cliffs, shrieking obscenities and promises of pain. Vicious weapons stuck out in all directions, already black with orc blood and filth. Trembling men, recently dubbed soldiers, peered out from behind the battlements of Helm's Deep, glancing fearfully down at the approaching army.

Beneath the stronghold, women and children shivered in the caves, faintly hearing the battle cries of the enemy from outside. Their fates rested on the shoulders of the men who, until lately, had been farmers. Theoden remained within the castle, preparing for battle and trying not to belatedly reconsider the decisions which had led them here. Aragorn himself stood with the men on the battlements, hiding a small smile as he watched the orcs approach.

The glee was rising among the orcs. Very soon, they would be feasting upon a mountain of human flesh. Soon, the whole of Middle Earth would be theirs, and they could feed whenever they wished. The shrieks became louder and more wild as they drew closer to Helm's Deep.

"ARMIES OF ISENGUARD!"

A voice resonated across the plains, silencing the orcs and halting their advancement. They looked up, puzzled, to see Aragorn holding a strange object to his mouth. It looked almost like that strange hat the wizard Gandalf had worn when he had come to Isenguard.

"ORC SLAVES OF SARUMAN! WE WILL GIVE YOU ONE LAST WARNING! LEAVE NOW, OR FACE YOUR DEATHS!"

The orcs managed to overcome their state of mild confusion in order to jeer at this expression of mercy. Aragorn rolled his eyes.

"THEY ASKED FOR IT. OOPS!" He brought the megaphone away from his mouth. "I mean, they asked for it." He put it back. "GIMLI! NOW!"

Gimli, meanwhile, had been taking a well-earned nap in one of the high towers, having forgotten what he was doing there. He was slightly annoyed, to say the least, when he was woken up by Aragorn yelling at him extremely loudly. Nevertheless, once he had remembered what he was supposed to do, which provided a small pause in which the orcs jeered and Aragorn rolled his eyes again, pushed the big red button marked PUSH.

The battlefield exploded in several places, sending orcs, bits of orc and orc dust flying towards the castle, where the men had opened what had looked like spears out into large umbrellas, and were protecting themselves from the onslaught of exploded orc.

"That still only counts as one," Legolas muttered.

The rest of the army were, understandably, furious at the blowing up of their pals, and hastily resumed their charge towards Helm's Deep at great speed. Aragorn lifted his megaphone of destiny once again.

"TAKE AIM!"

There was a strange clicking sound from a hundred elven bows, just before said bows were aimed towards the orcs without any arrows. The orcs were too busy to notice this un-weapon-like behaviour, though if they had happened to look up at that moment, they might have realised that these bows were not the type approved by the Middle Earth Weapon Authorities. They were long and metallic, with a strange hole at one end, the end pointed towards the army. The orcs would indeed have been very confused, had they been looking up just then.

But they weren't.

"FIRE!"

The orcs had about a quarter of a second to wonder what on earth that racket was, and why all the elves had started shaking violently, before they were mown down by a rain of bullets. One of these bullets managed to hit the barrel of gunpowder Saruman had wisely given to his chief orc, not knowing he was centuries behind the times. This resulted in yet another large explosion, forcing the men who had just begun peering out from behind their umbrellas to duck away again.

Aragorn laughed heartily as he decided to join in the fun; drawing a bazooka from behind his back, he started to fire. The orcs, who were now not only completely bewildered, but absolutely terrified, began to run away, though most of them didn't get far before they were taken down by the maniac elves.

There was a loud roaring noise as a low-flying plane skimmed the tops of the orcs' heads, causing them to howl in pain and shock. The plane soared upwards again, turned around and began to drop bombs onto the far smaller numbers of orcs below. Aragorn waved as it passed by; two short figures waved back, laughing, before the plane turned and headed towards the dark patch of the sky which covered Mordor.

"Aragorn!" a voice yelled over the noise. The future king of Gondor ceased his orc-bashing temporarily to turn and speak to Legolas, who was standing behind him. "Where have they gone?"

"Frodo and Sam just popped out to drop the Ring into Mount Doom. Don't worry, they'll be back for the 'We saved Middle Earth' party."

"That's all right, then."

So Aragorn and Legolas returned to their orc-bashing, and once all the orcs had been satisfactorily bashed, they went along to the 'We saved Middle Earth' party, which involved Golem gate crashing, Gimli playing yet another drinking game with Legolas and, again, failing, and Gandalf leading the Rohirrim in a hoe-down.

And they all lived happily ever after.

Except the orcs, obviously.


End file.
